


Rabbit Hunting

by Threatie, Wrespawn



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Abuse, Betrayal, Drunk Sex, Explosives, Food Kink, Foot Fetish, Gaslighting, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Multi, Nipple Play, Nonbinary Character, Objectification, Physical Abuse, Predicament Bondage, Sexual Abuse, Somnophilia, Trans Character, Verbal Abuse, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threatie/pseuds/Threatie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn
Summary: One fateful evening, the Kingpin brought his lovely wife a present: a civilian named Jeremy.  Jeremy has been a captive for a few weeks now, and today, Jack is letting him go outside for the first time.This story falls under the kept verse umbrella, meaning that the Fakes are abusive assholes, but this is a new narrative for the idea of “douchebag Fakes kidnap civilian Jeremy” with a different arrangement of characters.Full warnings are under the cut.  Please read them carefully.
Kudos: 21





	Rabbit Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Being hunted, kidnapping / captive situation, forced nudity, explosives, hunger, forced intoxication, rimming, heavy gaslighting, somnophilia, nonconsensual body modification, something resembling predicament bondage, betrayal, foot fetish, vague cannibalistic implications (nothing happens onscreen), humiliation, offscreen animal death, brief choking, brief mention of watersports, dehumanization/objectification, a general tone of nonconsensual petplay, victim blaming, casual abuse of power imbalance.
> 
> Disclaimer: This fic features Gavin seemingly in the role of fellow victim. As this fic takes place in the middle of the planned Kept Verse plot line, it is not made clear in the text that Gavin is also one of Jeremy’s abusers. Gavin’s actions in this fic, no matter how they are interpreted by Jeremy, are not intended to help him. Gavin is a Fake just like the rest of them: he is not a captive and is not in danger the same way Jeremy is.

Despite having been kidnapped by criminals several weeks ago, Jeremy’s mornings were usually pleasant.

Well after sunrise, he would awaken warm and comfortable under the crimson silk sheets of an enormous, soft bed. He rarely awoke alone. That big soft bed belonged to Wheels and Kingpin, the deadly power couple of the Fake AH Crew, but in their bed they never felt dangerous. In that bed, Wheels was no speed demon and Kingpin was no gun-brandishing mastermind. They were just Jack and Geoff, rough edges all softened, and Jeremy slept between them like a spoiled pet.

Sometimes, when Jeremy awoke in the mornings, he could feel arms wrapped around him. It was a warm, solid reassurance that he’d been protected through the night, that he was guarded even now as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. The brief time that he’d spent in other beds was more than enough to make him crave protection. 

Some mornings, Jeremy’s first sleepy movements would betray a slickness between his legs, a stickiness on his belly. On these mornings, Jack would take his hand and lead him into the shower.

Sometimes, Jeremy awoke long before the first glint of sunlight kissed the horizon. In the sweaty depths of the night, his own moans would disturb his slumber. He would drift in and out of awareness, only to surface within his body amid the overwhelming sensations of lips on his neck, heat around his cock, a slick firmness pumping so slowly inside him that it was a wonder he’d awoken. Some nights he wouldn’t awaken, not quite, and his dreams would be tangles of warmth and sensation. 

But even on mornings that his body felt wrung out and used, he’d never awoken in real pain. Until today, that was. 

Jeremy’s neck stung. He grunted into the pillow, pulling his face out of it reluctantly. The bed was unusually empty, giving him room to sprawl out, rub his neck sleepily, wince at the small prickle of pain. There was a tenderness that didn’t line up with Jack’s usual attentions. 

Jack’s bright voice chased away the last traces of slumber. “Rise and shine, Jeremy!”

Jeremy was still rubbing his neck as he sat up. “G’morning…” He looked at his hand, almost expecting to see a smear of blood. His hand wandered back to his neck, finding a small bump. “I think something’s wrong with my neck… is this a bug bite?”

Jack flung the curtains open. She was already dressed, bright and chipper. “Sounds like you need a little sunshine!”

“I don’t think that cures bug bites,” Jeremy mumbled.

Jack sat down on the bed with him. “Seriously, Jeremy, you spend so much time indoors. Why don’t you go out and enjoy the yard? The weather’s lovely.”

Jeremy blinked. The words sounded like a joke. “I’m… I’m allowed outside?”

“Of course you are, honey! Haven’t you ever tried the door?”

“…No.” He shook his head. “I-I didn’t… didn’t want you to think I was…”

 _Trying to escape._ The words resisted being spoken, held back by the same paralyzing self-preservation that had kept him inside, in Jack’s wing of the sprawling mansion, day to day survival eclipsing the possibility of escape. 

“Unhappy,” he finished. “I-I like the mansion.”

The fear that Jack would tire of him, would dislike him for attempting to leave her gentle captivity, that she wouldn’t even bother to put the bullet in his head herself but would, instead, hand him over to the other Fakes… no, Jeremy hadn’t tried the door. He’d barely worked up to looking at it, afraid that Jack would notice his furtive glancing. 

Jack’s hands under his chin started him out of his thoughts. She lifted his face, smiling down at him, silhouetted by the early morning sun.

“I’ll take you out today. How’s that sound? Some fresh air would do you good.”

Jeremy nodded gratefully. If Jack had made the offer, then it must be okay.

—-

The sun was bright. Jeremy blinked as he stepped through the door that Jack held open for him. It’s not as if he hadn’t seen the sun – HQ had windows – but now it was all around him. Everything, from the brick patio to the trimmed fruit trees to the fresh green grass, was lit up in hot bright sunlight. Jeremy almost jumped when the door swung shut behind him. Jack was standing there, smiling with a book tucked under her arm, holding the door knob. She was lit by the sun too. 

It was unreal, seeing a closed door from the outside. 

“Go on,” Jack urged. “Come back in if you’re hungry.”

Jeremy gestured at the impossibly wide expanse of _outside_. “You’re not… coming with me?”

Jack seated herself on a blue-and-white striped lawnchair. “Nah, not today.” She reclined on it, crossing her long tan legs, resting her book against them. “I think today is a reading day. Have fun, though!”

Jeremy took a breath, tried to think of something to say, and a breeze gusted over his face and stole his words. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The wild, untamed air was moving over his skin, and he was outside. 

He gave Jack a weak nod before wanderlust pulled his steps away from the door.

The smooth patio bricks were warm from the sun, a pleasant heat under Jeremy’s bare feet. Jack hadn’t offered him shoes, and he hadn’t asked… and even if she had, he might’ve kicked them off again at the sight of the lush green lawn stretching out before him. Jeremy stepped onto the grass as though afraid it wouldn’t hold his weight. Soft and cool, yielding yet springy, a bit damp closer to the soil. He flexed his feet, drinking in the sensations. 

How long had it been since he’d felt grass against his feet? Longer than he’d been captive, and he’d quickly lost track of how long that had been. He’d never taken the time before. Never realized it was something he might lose. Sunlight on his face, it hadn’t been quite as long. Sunbeams from Jack’s windows easily reached her bed, but this was different, somehow. Not filtered through glass. Warm and direct, accompanied by a slight breeze that whispered softly across his skin. 

So many sensations he’d been missing. Jeremy took another few steps, enjoying the breathing room. Sense of space, that was another one. The ability to close his eyes and trust he wasn’t about to walk into a table or a door frame. He lifted his arms, spinning in a few looping circles. He was still within the Fake’s compound, still under their control, but even so… he felt free.

A bird flew by overhead. Jeremy stopped spinning, staggering a bit as he steadied himself, to watch its progress. Then, laughing, he began to run.

—-

The movement, the speed, the ground thumping under his feet were all exhilarating. Fiery green grass blurred beneath him and beautifully maintained trees and shrubs drifted by. A wide, giddy smile was on Jeremy’s face. It was easy to imagine that he could have kept running until he reached the other side of the world. He ran with no destination and no regard for endurance, pushing his limits as far as he could for the sheer joy of having them pushed, propelling himself forward with such a speed that any one step might send him careening off balance–

Like a diving falcon striking prey, the force of a cannonball took Jeremy off his feet.

The impact was so sudden, so abrupt, that it wasn’t until Jeremy was on the ground, the heavy weight of another body pressing him down into the grass, that he realized he hadn’t simply fallen.

“Gotcha, bitch.” 

A harsh smile loomed over him, silhouetted against the blue sky. Jeremy didn’t have time to register the blunt ache of hitting the ground, the patches of road rash, before paralyzing fear was gripping his limbs.

“M-Michael–”

Michael silenced him with a harsh hand on his neck. “You made that too damn easy. Really takes the sport out of this hunt.” 

“Wh-whoa, wait—“ Jeremy winced as Michael squeezed. “Jack said I could be here!”

“Didn’t Jack tell you?” Michael’s grin was savage as he leaned close to Jeremy’s pale face. “Any animal on Fake property is mine to hunt. Caught a rabbit last month that I skinned and turned into biking gloves. What should I make out of you, huh?”

“P-please!” Jeremy had no idea if Michael was serious or not, but the hand on his neck sure felt serious. “Let me go, I’ll— I’ll give you a better chase!”

The hand eased off. “Oh?”

“I-I didn’t even know I was being tracked, no wonder hunting me wasn’t any fun,” Jeremy rambled. “Gimme a head start and I’ll make it better.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. With a laugh, he stood, leaving Jeremy on the ground. Jeremy coughed and rubbed his throat. The grass didn’t feel so soft when he’d been slammed against it.

“All right,” Michael chuckled. “Back on your feet.”

Shakily, Jeremy stood. A combination of fear and ache from his run had his legs wobbling like rubber. He’d never seen this particular look in Michael’s eyes, not even in bed. It looked hungry. Feral.

“You’re right, Jeremy. A good trophy deserves a good chase.” Michael grabbed Jeremy’s jaw, tilting his chin up as though examining him. “And you’re a _nice_ trophy, aren’t you?”

Jeremy tried to swallow. “Y-yeah, I– I can be.”

For the life of him, he couldn’t tell what part of his body Michael wanted, or for what purpose.

Michael gave his cheek a light slap, almost friendly. “Off you go, buddy. You’re _free_.” He laughed, sat down on the grass, and flopped back to stare at the sky. “I won’t peek. You’ve got five minutes.” 

Again, Jeremy ran, but this time it wasn’t joy that drove his steps.

—-

The plan, the only plan, was putting as much distance as possible between himself and Michael. Jeremy’s breath was beginning to ache in his chest, his legs protesting each stride, but fear pushed him on. Now, after several minutes of much less enjoyable sprinting, he was starting to think he should’ve just gone back to the house.

He couldn’t, though. His world had just expanded and he didn’t know anything about the new terrain. He couldn’t just crawl back into his kennel without even knowing what was out here, without knowing if…

If there was a way to leave.

Finally, weighed down by fatigue, Jeremy’s strides began to slow. Up ahead, the rolling green lawn was giving way to something with the structured look of agriculture: a vineyard, neat rows of grapes soaking up the sun like a picture on a postcard. Jeremy glanced around, taking in the thriving vines, a small cabin not far away, a grove of trees off in the distance.

He’d gotten further away from Michael, for now, but he needed to think fast. He barely knew anything about the grounds, and it was clear that he didn’t have time to explore leisurely. 

“Oi, Jeremy!”

Jeremy jumped as Gavin ran up beside him, his voice hushed and insistent. Jeremy had barely registered his presence before Gavin was leading him by the hand, pulling him into the vineyard. 

“You shouldn’t be out in the open like this! If Michael sees you…”

Gavin let the thought trail off in favor of dragging him deeper into the leafy green vines.

“Oh, yeah, about that.” Jeremy laughed, lifting one arm to deflect the leaves as they brushed between the plants, less humor making it into his voice than he’d hoped. “I think that ship has sailed.” 

The soil was soft and rich. Jeremy focused on the sensation as he walked, feeling the earth against his feet. Just another thing he hadn’t known he’d miss until it was gone. Or, as it turned out, wasn’t gone at all. 

Gavin stopped abruptly, flopping to the ground at what he’d evidently decided was a safe distance. Jeremy joined him, close enough in the cramped green space that their knees brushed against each other.

“Vineyard’s a safe space,” Gavin explained, looking around him with a hesitancy that suggested his words weren’t as true as he hoped. “Michael knows better than to disturb Geoff’s vines. He won’t come in here, or if he does he won’t get violent. Or, if he does get violent, he’ll keep it close quarters. We can talk here, be out of the way for a bit.”

“I didn’t know we were allowed outside.”

“Well, there’s ‘allowed’ and then there’s ‘good idea,’ yeah? Still, ‘s good to get out. Just gotta be careful about it.” 

An unease had begun growing in Jeremy’s chest when Jack first gave him permission to go outside. Now, looking at Gavin’s face, he suddenly had words for it.

“There’s no way out,” he murmured, “is there?”

Gavin blinked. “Out where?”

“Like, _out_ out. There’s no way to leave Fake property, otherwise they wouldn’t let us outside.”

“Oh, you know…” Gavin tapped fingers against his lips. “See, I don’t know. I never wander very far. Don’t wanna push my luck, y’know? Makes sense that we wouldn’t be allowed out if we could just wander off, but I’ve never, y’know, _checked_.”

Deceptive hope began to glow in Jeremy’s chest. “So– there could be something, a gap in the fence or a way to get over it or–”

“There could be!” Gavin was nodding. “It’s a huge property, plenty of space for something to go wrong.”

“And if there was a way out, they wouldn’t know.” Jeremy’s mind was racing. “After all, you’re out here all the time, and you haven’t escaped yet. They can’t know that you’ve never tried.” 

“That’s true!”

“And if I could find something, find a way off the property, we could…” 

Jeremy let the sentence trail off. It felt dangerous to say the words, to put the concept of escape out into the world. Dangerous because the Fakes might hear it, but more than that… dangerous because Gavin might hear it. A seed of hope, planted in the concrete foundations of his carefully constructed patterns of self-preservation, a flowering plant that would crack and choke what he’d built. A promise that could destroy him if Jeremy failed to deliver.

He could cross that terrifying bridge once he reached it. If it even existed. He cleared his throat.

“Anyway, I’ll look around.” He hoped Gavin didn’t press the subject. “And I’ll tell you if I find anything.” After a moment of staring up at the sun-warmed vines, another question began to nag him. “Gavin… you know Michael better than me. Could you maybe answer something for me?”

“Sure!” Gavin nodded, eager as always to share what he’d learned. “I mean, probably. What d’you want to know?”

“He, uh. He wouldn’t really, would he? Wouldn’t…” The words stuck in Jeremy’s throat. He made a hand gesture, helping the meaning along. “He wouldn’t… kill me?”

It felt wrong to say it out loud, simultaneously like he was overreacting and like he’d somehow given Michael permission to make it real.

Gavin shrugged, resignation abruptly clear in his posture, the way his shoulders suddenly slumped. “Dunno.”

Jeremy went cold. “Y-you don’t _know_?”

“Well, he hasn’t killed me yet, and he’s caught me plenty, although I belong to him, ‘n more’n that, I belong to Lindsay. Dunno how badly he’d break someone else’s toy, yeah?”

So it was possible. 

Jeremy was silent, chewing on his lip. The obvious question lingered on his tongue for a few moments before he was able to push it out into words. “What does he… do? When he catches you?”

Another shrug, a deeper resignation that pulled Gavin’s gaze away from his face, staring off into the distance beyond the vineyard. “I mean… you know what he’s like. Bites a bit, when he’s excited. Uses the knife some. On my stomach, mostly. He likes the vulnerability, there. Never goes too deep, although sometimes I think he has. Helps if I scream, nice ‘n loud. Nothing held back. Means he doesn’t feel like has to work as hard for it. Plus, if Lindsay hears, they’ll wanna hurt me some way without the knife. Sometimes, you get another Fake involved, and…” 

“Yeah, but he’s–” Jeremy bit his tongue. He lowered his voice, as though Michael might hear. “I dunno, he seemed kinda different just now. Like he wasn’t holding back. It scared me.”

A brief, wide-eyed look flashed across Gavin’s face. He turned away quickly, as though to hide it. “I-I dunno,” he rambled. “Sometimes I think maybe he– he wants things that I can’t give him, not while still breathing. I-I just gotta keep him happy, make sure he never needs to…”

Gavin’s voice trailed off. He sat, unmoving, focused on some distant point. Jeremy glanced downward, saw that one of Gavin’s hands was scratching idle furrows into the rich soil. He cleared his throat, suddenly eager to change the subject.

“So… it’s still worth it? To come out onto the grounds?”

Gavin’s brave face was flimsy. “It’s pretty out here, right? In the summer it’s nice to wade in the river. Little more private than the pool.”

Jeremy lifted his gaze away from Gavin for a moment. It was pretty out here. Sunlight and fresh air were treasures he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

“Glad you’re out here with me,” Gavin offered hopefully. “It’s nice to enjoy it with someone else.”

Maybe it was the sunlight filtering down between the vines, or the fresh air, or just the feeling of safety, of hope he had, now, for the first time in a long time. Maybe it was the freedom that privacy provided him, the ability to make a choice that would be judged by no one but the two of them. Maybe it was just the relief of a non-adversarial conversation. Whatever it was, Jeremy’s thoughts were drawn, more and more, to Gavin’s lips. 

“Hey, Gav? Do you wanna, uh.” Jeremy licked his lips. “You wanna make out a little?”

A cautious little smile teased across Gavin’s face. “You mean, like… out here? While no one’s watching?”

Jeremy leaned closer. “Yeah.” 

“Yeah.” Gavin was leaning closer too. “We could do anything we want right now, with no one around. Could kiss all we want.” 

“Or anything else we want,” Jeremy said breathlessly.

Gavin leaned closer until his smile was almost brushing Jeremy’s lips. “Feels a little naughty to have no rules–”

Jeremy stopped Gavin’s words with his lips. It was sudden and soft, bright and sweet, and Gavin returned it with a muffled giggle. It was surreal to engage in something so balanced, so equal. Jeremy’s hands crept to Gavin’s waist just as Gavin did the same, both of them drifting a little closer. The kiss was all lips, soft and wandering, excited but chaste. When Gavin pulled back, he giggled again, and Jeremy couldn’t resist giggling too.

Gavin was half-covering his smile with his hand. “Oh,” he breathed, “oh that was lovely.” 

The contrast was striking, between _this_ Gavin and the Gavin Jeremy was familiar with. This Gavin wasn’t performing for his captor’s gaze. This Gavin wasn’t focusing on strategy, on carefully balancing what he could take with what the Fakes wanted to give. The excitement in his eyes was genuine. It made Jeremy want to protect him, to see the Gavin that could be. Made him want to take the actions that Gavin was too devoted to self-preservation to risk. Even the fantasy of being able to protect him was intoxicating.

Maybe it was the seduction of that fantasy that put new strength in Jeremy’s shoulders, new bravery in his words.

“Gavin, what can you tell me about the grounds? What’s out here, what areas have you explored?”

Gavin perked up at the question, the chance to relay information. “Well, there’s the vineyard, right here! It’s proper lovely and usually safe, it’s my favorite spot. You can steal a grape or two and no one minds.” He glanced around, as though reassuring himself that there was no one else listening. “Sometimes I, uh. I stay out here a bit, if Lindsay’s been a bit too interested in me, and. Well. It’s pretty, right?”

Jeremy looked up at the tangle of vines, sunlight filtering through them. “It is really pretty.”

“Oh, and if you go south there’s a wine cellar. Looks like a little cabin from the outside. You can go there for snacks if you’re hungry. It’s got stuff like crackers ‘n olives ‘n big wheels of cheese.” Gavin shrugged. “They’ve never noticed me taking some. Never noticed me sampling the wine, either, if I keep to the bottles that’re already open.” 

The suggestion sent an odd tingle down Jeremy’s spine. There was no shortage of alcohol available in the mansion, but there was something naughty about the notion of drinking unsupervised, with no one around to take advantage of his altered mental state. Maybe he could sneak off and have a drink with Gavin, stealing wine together the way they’d stolen a kiss. See Gavin smile again. The idea of making Gavin happy felt so good that it was hard to focus on his words here and now.

“Not so sure what’s out north, don’t go there much,” Gavin rambled, “but on the southeast side there’s a little creek and a pool. Lovely place. Not sure why we have a pool when the river’s right there, but I guess that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re rich.” He shrugged. “Does that help at all?”

“It helps a lot, really. Gavin, you–” Jeremy was drawn towards Gavin again, this time to pull him into a sudden, tight hug. “That’s really helpful. All of it. Thank you.”

When Jeremy released him, Gavin’s smile looked genuine. His expression changed to delighted realization. 

“Oh, Jeremy!” Gavin reached down, pulling off his flip flops. “Here, you should have these. If you’re going to go exploring.”

The flip flops were plastic and foam, an absurdly glittery gold that looked almost magical in the dappled sunlight. Jeremy stared at them blankly. He was afraid that if he reached out to touch them, his hand would pass through them like smoke.

“I took ‘em from the pool house,” Gavin explained. “Haven’t gotten in trouble for it yet. Just, uh… put ‘em back there before you go back to Jack? Don’t draw attention?”

Some unknown emotion pushed its way into Jeremy’s throat. His original clothing had vanished the first time Jack had undressed him. She’d given him soft pants and comfortable shirts, but never, ever, shoes or socks. He almost hadn’t noticed the absence, since there had been nothing beneath his bare feet but carpet and smooth floors. Now, the promise of a supportive surface between his foot and the ground was threatening to bring tears to his eyes. 

Shoes would let him go places.

Jeremy took the flip flops with reverence. “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry!” 

Jeremy tucked his leg to his chest in his eagerness to pull the shoe on. Bringing his foot back to the ground, soft foam shielding him from the earth, felt surreal. He was smiling giddily by the time he got the second flip flop on.

“I-I’ll give them back,” he promised. He couldn’t stop staring at his own feet, now proudly glittering in their golden armor. “I’ll tell you all about what I find.” 

“Don’t worry about it, love.” Gavin’s smile was suddenly shy. “But, ah… if it would make you feel better to exchange something for them… you could always kiss me again.” 

Jeremy was back on his knees in an instant, his lips crashing into Gavin’s with enough force to knock him backwards onto the soft earth. Gavin squeaked, then laughed in delight, reaching up for Jeremy, trying to pull him closer. Jeremy straddled him, crawling up and over his body, taking the shortest path back into the kiss. Slowly, he lowered his weight onto Gavin, pressing their bodies together as his tongue pressed against Gavin’s lips. Gavin opened for him, both his mouth and his legs, wrapping himself around Jeremy like one of the vines. Dappled sunlight was warm on Jeremy’s back, the foam flip flops soft against the soles of his feet.

A twig snapped.

Jeremy broke the kiss and slapped a hand over Gavin’s mouth before he could make a sound. He held his breath, praying that Gavin stayed still and quiet, trying not to think about the fact that Gavin’s hard dick was pressed against his thigh.

He could hear footsteps.

These weren’t the casual strolling steps of someone on an idle walk. Each footfall was slow, deliberate, not as loud as it could have been. Some primal instinct that Jeremy hadn’t known he possessed was flashing in alarm, uttering the word _hunter_.

Gavin seemed to have realized the danger. He was motionless under Jeremy, breath hushed against Jeremy’s palm. Jeremy kept his head low and prayed. It was too late to run, but the vines were thick and he and Gavin were low to the ground. Maybe Michael wouldn’t see them. 

Fuck. He couldn’t tell if the footsteps were getting closer or not.

Jeremy slipped his hand off Gavin’s mouth and whispered words so softly he wasn’t sure Gavin heard them. “I thought you said he wouldn’t come in here?”

Gavin breathed a near-silent reply against his neck. “He will if he’s hunting.” 

The word crystalized on Jeremy’s skin like frost. He could feel Gavin’s racing heartbeat against his own as he listened to the ominous _thump thump thump_ of Michael’s footsteps. 

Slowly, impossibly, the sound grew quieter. And quieter. Jeremy waited until it was gone before he let out a cautious breath.

“I-I think he left,” Jeremy whispered. Gingerly, he pulled himself off of Gavin, keeping his head low. He couldn’t see movement between the vines. He couldn’t hear the slow pacing of a predator.

“He’ll be back,” Gavin whined. “He tracked you here and he knows you haven’t left.”

“Wh-what do I do? How do I lose him?”

Gavin swallowed hard. He took a deep breath. “Run. I’ll distract him.” 

Jeremy’s stomach dropped. “Gavin–”

“S’alright. He won’t _really_ hurt me, remember?” Gavin’s smile seemed to quiver. “Besides, I know what he likes. I can keep him busy.” 

“You can’t, he’s gonna–”

Through the vines, someone cursed, a familiar frustrated grunt. It sounded far too close.

Gavin hushed his voice and pushed on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Just run, he’s coming back!” 

There was no time to argue. Jeremy scrambled to his feet as silently as he could and hurried through the vines, away from the sound of Michael. As he slipped out of the vineyard and into the unbroken sunlight, he could faintly hear Gavin’s voice behind him.

“M-Michael? Is that you, boy?”

Jeremy clenched his teeth and kept running. He had to use what Gavin had given him. The shoes on his feet were a reminder of that, a talisman of good luck. They flopped as he ran, but each stride felt surer through the soft, protective plastic, guided by information and a concrete goal.

The odds were still stacked against him, but for the first time, Jeremy thought he might have a few cards in his hand. 

—-

Gavin said he didn’t normally go north. So Jeremy went north. At least, he was pretty sure it was north, based on the sun. Not that he was some sort of expert on the sun, after spending weeks indoors.

His legs were refreshed after the rest, his feet protected by Gavin’s flip flops. Jeremy jogged north, past flowerbeds and fountains and vast grassy lawns, until a peculiar wooden sign made him stop.

“Lindsay’s Garden” proclaimed the sign cheerfully. The hand-painted words were surrounded by bright depictions of flowers. Jeremy hesitated. Despite the painted flowers, he couldn’t see any real flowers on the plot of land beyond, just more lawn broken by trees, and a few spots of disturbed earth. That wasn’t the oddest thing. To the left and right, a hundred or so yards in either direction, Jeremy could see identical wooden signs. The row continued as far as he could see. They seemed to be denoting some sort of border.

Weird as it was, Jeremy couldn’t leave such a large portion of the property unexplored. He strode past the wooden signs and into what he assumed was Lindsay’s garden.

Oddly, this part of the property seemed less maintained than the rest. The grass was more overgrown, the trees less trimmed. Jeremy’s eyes kept darting around as he moved further past the wooden signs. There were several holes in the ground. Big ones, as though someone had intended to transplant a small tree. Jeremy eyed them uneasily as he passed. Maybe the garden wasn’t finished yet. Maybe Lindsay was planning to plant an orchard of some kind, to go with the vineyard. He still hadn’t seen any flowers.

Something crunched under his flip flop. Jeremy lifted his foot slowly, squinting down at what he’d stepped on. It was… white. Pale and smooth, broken under his weight like porcelain, but… the angles weren’t right for porcelain. 

_Bones_.

A creeping sense of dread was beginning to wind itself around him, constricting his ribs in response to some as-yet unknown threat. The bones were too small to be human, probably something like a squirrel or a rabbit. Jeremy latched on to the fact. Animals died sometimes. Nothing weird about that. He kept walking, trying to fight down a growing and baseless sense of panic. When he heard another crunch under his shoes, he didn’t look down this time, walking faster.

The cheerful painted signs were starting to seem like a warning he should have heeded.

“Jeremy!”

The shout made him look up, twisting around in search of the source of the voice. Under the shade of a nearby tree stood Lindsay, decked out in denim overalls and a sun hat, crimson hair tied up in a ponytail, but… they were standing awfully far away and didn’t seem inclined to come any closer.

Lindsay’s eyes were wide, their hands held up in warning. “Do not move. Try not to breathe if you can help it.”

Horrifyingly, instinct whipped Jeremy’s head around, the opposite of not moving. “Why? Why shouldn’t I move?”

“Didn’t you see the signs? You’re in my garden!”

Jeremy looked down at his feet, suddenly sure he’d see crushed flowers. There was nothing there but smooth grass and disturbed soil. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I stepped on anything—“

“Believe me, you’d know if you stepped on something.”

Unease was swelling in Jeremy’s chest, crowding out his heartbeat. He almost didn’t want to ask. “What… what exactly do you grow here?”

Lindsay planted their hands on their hips. “Grow? Not much. But I’ve planted a lot in the ground, if you know what I mean.” 

Dawning horror stole the breath from Jeremy’s lungs. Wordlessly, he turned to look at one of the craters, then back to Lindsay. Seeking confirmation.

“I know I’ve said this before,” Lindsay insisted, “but seriously, do not move. You’re practically on top of one.”

“Wh–” Jeremy’s voice faltered, coming out a panicked whine. “W-what do I do?”

“It’s okay, I can show you the way out.” 

“Y-you can?”

“Yeah, totes. I just need you to take your pants off.”

The words almost didn’t process. It took Jeremy a moment to realize he hadn’t misheard them, they were so out of context for the situation at hand. 

“Wh… why do I need to take my pants off?”

Lindsay didn’t blink. “Balls help me concentrate.” 

“I– _what_ –”

“Listen, Jeremy; don’t question it. It’s the same reason I’m not wearing a bra under these overalls.” Lindsay tugged one denim strap. “Or a shirt! Nudity is part of my process.”

“O-okay.” Jeremy nodded rapidly, already reaching for the waistband of his pants. It wouldn’t even be the strangest thing Lindsay had told him to do. 

“Jeremy!” Lindsay clapped their hands several times, almost causing him to jump out of his skin. “You’ve gotta take your shoes off first! What, did you forget how to undress yourself without Jack around?”

“O-oh right.” 

Jeremy balanced on one leg to remove one of Gavin’s flip-flops. He tried to place his foot exactly where he’d left it, his heart jumping at the soft touch of soil. The dirt didn’t feel so safe and welcoming anymore.

“I wouldn’t drop that shoe,” Lindsay remarked. 

Teeth clenched in focus, Jeremy balanced on his other foot and struggled to remove his other flip flop while holding the first. He had to hold back a miserable whine. He’d only just gotten these shoes, and already he was taking them off again. Gingerly, he set his bare foot on the ground again. He chewed on his lip until it ached as he fumbled with his pants while holding both flip flops under his arm. 

As the waistband slipped down, the warm breeze kissed Jeremy’s bare skin. Jack didn’t like him wearing underwear unless he wasn’t wearing anything else. Embarrassment made Jeremy’s hands quiver as he let the pants drop down his bare legs. It might have been a while since he’d been outside, but he remembered the outdoors well enough to be self-conscious about sunlight on his dick.

“I feel more focused already!” Lindsay proclaimed proudly.

Jeremy shuffled his feet, wobbled alarmingly, and then planted himself in place. He couldn’t figure out how to untangle his feet. He didn’t dare just thrash his legs until the pants flung off in some direction.

“Well?” Lindsay clapped several more times, causing a wince that did nothing to unstick Jeremy’s feet from the ground. “You were doing so well; what’s the hold up?”

“I-I, uh–” Jeremy hesitated, almost unable to form words. The fabric caught around his ankles felt more like bondage than clothes. “I d-don’t know where to put my–”

“Oh, I gotcha!” Lindsay bounced towards him. “Hold tight, I’m coming out!”

Jeremy’s heart leapt straight up into his skull. “Sh-shit, wait–”

Jeremy watched, helpless, as Lindsay pranced confidently forward, occasionally stepping wide around an innocuous patch of ground, as though they were doing nothing more than avoiding patches of mud. Jeremy didn’t dare take a breath. Finally, Lindsay hopped up beside him like a gymnast sticking their landing, then bent down slightly, offering him their shoulder. 

“Here, lean on me. Stand on my foot, if it helps.”

Shaking slightly, Jeremy did so. Lindsay’s bare shoulder and arm made distracting skin-on-skin contact, muscular and intimate. Jeremy shook as he stepped out of his pants with one leg, then using the other to lift them up high enough to grab. Lindsay looked him up and down assessingly, and for a moment Jeremy was afraid their hands were going to wander, but then they stepped back and gave him space.

“Okay, let’s get you away from the closest one. You should be good to take about five steps that way.” They pointed. “Just walk directly towards that shrub.”

“Uh…” Jeremy followed the line of their finger. “Shit, that’s… not the way I came from.”

“Which way did you come from?”

Jermey pointed. Lindsay blinked. 

“That way? You’re sure?”

“Y-yeah?”

Lindsay took a deep, deep breath. “You,” they exhaled, “are one lucky bunny.” They flicked their fingers. “Come on, five steps.”

Nothing, not the fatigue of a run nor Michael’s gaze nor Gavin’s lips, had made Jeremy’s legs quake like this. Never in his life had he been so unsure of how long a normal human step was supposed to be. He walked towards the shrub – one, two, three, four, five – and froze in place. 

“You would be great at Simon Says,” Lindsay remarked. “Can you touch your nose with your tongue?”

“Lindsay, _please_ ,” Jeremy whimpered.

“Oh all right, come on.” Lindsay beckoned for him to follow and began walking. “Just stick real close to me and you’ll be fine.” 

Jeremy rushed to follow before they could get too far away. Every time his bare thighs brushed against each other, he shivered. He could feel the breeze on far too much of his body.

“What’s with that look?” Lindsay teased. “Have you never gone streaking before?”

“Uh–” Jeremy clutched his pants to his chest as he followed gingerly. “Can’t say I have.”

“I could take my overalls off if that would make you more comfortable,” Lindsay offered.

Jeremy swallowed. “I-I’m good.”

“You sure? I’m wearing nothing under these.”

“It’s fine!” Jeremy rasped. 

Lindsay flung out their arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Shit, hold up.”

Jeremy’s stomach dropped and he froze. He held his breath, as though that would make a difference. He knew damn well that his guts would be decorating the trees right now if he’d already taken a wrong step.

“Jeremy.” Lindsay leveled a serious look at him. “Look me in the eye. You’re not a virgin, are you?”

The absurdity of the question stole Jeremy’s words. For a moment, all he could do was stare.

Lindsay placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. This is a judgement-free zone.”

“Y-you–” Jeremy’s voice was a horrified squeak. “You _know_ I’m not a virgin!”

“Yeah, but like…” Lindsay kept a grip on his shoulder and continued walking, pulling him along. “Before me. And Jack. And Michael. And all of us. You’ve gotten your dick wet, right?”

“No, I–” Jeremy’s face was turning red and his gaze kept darting to the ground. “I wasn’t a virgin before I came here.”

“Not even in the butt?”

“N-not with a– a real–”

“I mean, you eat pussy like a champ, so either you’ve done that before or you’re some sort of savant.”

“I’ve–”

Lindsay suddenly gripped the back of his neck. “Bet I was the first one to choke you,” they purred. “You really squirmed the first time I grabbed your neck.”

Jeremy’s breath caught as they squeezed playfully. “No, I–”

“Shit, really?” They let go, but didn’t pull away from him. “You’ve been choked before? Oh, you’ve gotta tell me.”

“It was only once,” Jeremy admitted weakly. He winced as he stumbled over a rock. “A-are we still–”

“Jeremy you kinky little thing! What’s something you haven’t done?”

“Are we still going the right way?”

With a laugh, Lindsay slung an arm around his shoulders, barely looking where they were going. “Oh, so you’re a sick freak who’s done everything, huh? No new horizons for you, pervert?”

“No, I’ve–”

“Come on, one thing you’ve never done.”

“I’ve–” Jeremy scrambled to follow the conversation and Lindsay’s steps at the same time. “I’ve never been– pissed on?”

“Huh.” Lindsay’s face was suddenly unreadable. “Interesting choice.”

“Ch– choice?”

“You know, I go streaking in the yard all the time. It’s really freeing.”

“Wait, Lindsay, I don’t–”

Lindsay yanked Jeremy to a halt. “Careful.”

Jeremy stumbled to a stop. Lindsay pointed. 

“You’ve gotta watch where you’re going.”

Scant feet in front of Jeremy, the ground was disturbed. Grass was broken up by bare soil, dried out in the sun but not reclaimed by plant life.

“…Shit.” The word almost wouldn’t come out. Jeremy quaked in Lindsay’s grip. “I-is that what it looks like, where…?”

“That’s a nice fresh one.” Lindsay stepped casually over the disturbance, nothing but a wider gait indicating there was anything special about this spot. “A lot of them have been here longer. Grass grows fast, you know! Can’t see where they are until a rabbit suddenly has a very bad day.”

Jeremy could remember the _crunch_ of tiny bones under his shoes. Wrenching his legs into motion, he circumnavigated the spot as quickly as he dared. Ahead of him, Lindsay was getting further away.

“W-wait,” He called, the words coming out strained and quiet, as though the disturbed patch of dirt might hear him. “I’m not sure I saw where you–”

“Ha!” With a leap followed by a few wide, triumphant steps, Lindsay passed the row of painted wooden signs, turning back to face Jeremy with their arms outstretched in victory. “And we’re home safe!”

Jeremy’s steps slowed to a stop, sizing up the distance between them. “I– w-was that jump necessary, or–?”

“Nah, just felt like celebrating. C’mon, Jeremy; you’re almost there!”

“O-okay.” He took a deep breath, then nearly choked on it when Lindsay suddenly flung up a hand.

“Wait! Wait, wait; actually, take two steps to the left first. Then two steps forward, and two steps back to the right. Just, uh. Just to be safe.”

“Shit…” Without Lindsay in front of him, Jeremy’s joints kept trying to lock up. His legs felt rigid as he followed their directions. “Okay… now?”

“Now forward. Hey, Jeremy; just think about Jack, okay?”

“What?” All of Jeremy’s energy was focused on keeping his feet moving forward. The words felt like they were bouncing off of glass, requiring deliberate effort for the meaning to penetrate.

“Just, y’know. If you’re scared. Just think of Jack. You wanna get back to her, right?”

“I-I’d settle for getting out of your garden right now. Is this where you did that jump?”

Lindsay waved the question away. “You do like Jack, right? Like… you’re not having a better time right now, than when you’re with her?”

Jeremy could feel a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Nonsensically, he was suddenly worried what would happen if that droplet hit the ground. “Uh, n-no; I definitely have a better time than this when I’m with Jack!”

“So you do like Jack!”

“Y-yes!” Jeremy could feel his voice rising hysterically. “Yes, I like Jack! Is this where you jumped?”

“But do you _like_ her, like her?”

“ _Lindsay_!”

“Yes, yes, that’s where you jump! Wow. I was just asking.”

Shakily, Jeremy leapt across the patch of grass, took the last few steps, and fell into Lindsay’s waiting arms. Their embrace was a little too tight, but he didn’t care. He pressed into them, trembling, reassuring himself of their solidness.

“Never going back in your garden again,” he whined, his face pressed into their shoulder.

Lindsay’s voice was soft in his ear. “Oh, Jeremy. Not every little bunny makes it out of my garden. I’m glad this one did.”

Slowly, they released him, letting him find his balance before they separated. Jeremy shivered at the implication, that Lindsay would rather give him support than let him stumble, still this close to the border of their garden.

“W-were there…” Jeremy swallowed, hard, clutching the bundle of cloth to his chest. Looking back on the strange garden, it seemed like the terror could have all been imagined. “Was there really something there? Or were you just–”

Like a striking snake, Lindsay plucked the bundle from his arms and flung it back into their garden. It hit the ground with a soft thump, followed by an even softer click.

Jeremy didn’t even have time to brace himself before dirt and fabric exploded, a head-ringing BOOM that flattened his eardrums. He wasn’t sure whether he flung himself back into Lindsay’s arms, or if they grabbed him, compressing him against their chest until the sound of falling debris had quieted. Even after their vice-like grip had loosened, it still took several seconds before Jeremy could force himself back into motion again. Finally, cautiously, he lifted his ringing head. 

Small shreds of golden foam littered the scattered soil. Jeremy’s body shifted without him, one leg almost ready to take a step forward, as though the shoes were still something he could retrieve. Fear held him to the spot, the only thing preventing him from going after the remains of Gavin’s shoes.

Numbly, he felt Lindsay clap a hand against his shoulder. As the ringing faded from his ears, he could hear their voice.

“You tell me, Bucko. Good thing I found you, huh?”

“Y-yeah…” Jeremy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spot where, moments before, there had been undisturbed ground. His pants were in multiple pieces, torn apart as thoroughly as if they’d been put through a blender. He could feel a soft breeze against his bare thighs.

Shit. Bare thighs. He should get away from Lindsay, before they got any ideas.

“Uh, t-thanks again.” He took a careful step away, and then another, bolder as he moved out of grabbing range. “Uh, I’ll let you get back to…” The word faltered on his lips. “…gardening.”

“Sure thing, Jeremy!” Lindsay, by some miracle of priorities, didn’t stop him as he turned and began to run. They cupped their hands around their mouth to call after him. “Hey, watch your back out there! I hear my husband’s out hunting today!”

—-

Putting Lindsay’s garden behind him was a relief. All the same, Jeremy’s legs didn’t stop wobbling until those cheerful painted signs were out of sight.

It was hard to be sure, but Jeremy guessed he was now making his way south, through the eastern section of property. Here, the rolling green lawn was being swallowed up by a well-maintained facsimile of a woodland, setpieces of trees and shade-loving plants all artfully arranged with quartz-bright gravel walkways winding between them. Jeremy took one look at the gravel and struck off into the trees, avoiding the path. He missed Gavin’s shoes already. The mulch was soft and damp between his toes, far kinder than the gravel would have been. 

Dappled shade closed over Jeremy’s head like a blanket as he stepped into the tamed woodland. It was a comfort, in a way. He was feeling a little exposed out in the open, and not just because the wind was keeping his balls cool. As he wove through the trees, he organized his thoughts. Since leaving the house, he’d caught several glimpses of a tall wrought-iron fence in the distance. It wasn’t surprising enough to make him despair. He’d always assumed the property was ringed by some sort of barrier. On a later day, a day where he had more clothes and less Michael on his tail, he’d trace the entire edge of the fence and search for weaknesses, but for now he just wanted a lay of the land. He wanted to know what he was dealing with, maybe draw himself a map.

The property sure as fuck had its fair share of surprises.

Jeremy’s foot landed on soft mulch and a rope snapped around his ankle, yanking him off the ground.

Jeremy’s yell reverberated through the trees as the world inverted horribly and the rope tried to rip his leg off his hip. Tidy gravel pathways and ground plants swung wildly above him. Jeremy writhed in empty air, every part of his body hanging loose except for one leg, his ankle in a constrictor grip of rough rope. 

_A snare._ Jeremy’s panicking mind tried to process the realization as the world reeled around him, an earthy blur. His leg had been grabbed by the sort of rope trap employed by hunters and cartoon villains, pulling him off his feet and leaving him to dangle. There was only one person Jeremy could think of who might have set this up. Someone who liked hunting.

The world was slowly swaying to a halt as Jeremy’s breath heaved. Twisting his body up, he could see the rope stretching up above him, tethered to a sturdy tree branch high above. He could do this. He just had to get his foot out of the snare. The ground wasn’t that far below. Sure, he’d be hitting it head-first, but…

…He really didn’t want Michael to find him like this.

Jeremy took a few deep breaths to gather himself. With a grunt, he hauled himself up towards his own legs, grabbing the rope. His body weight was keeping the noose pulled tight, rough cord digging into his ankle. Jeremy’s arm and abs screamed as his fingers pried fruitlessly at the rope. Finally, he exhaled heavily as he let go of the rope and lowered himself back to a hanging position. There was no way to loosen the knot while it was holding him up. He needed to cut it.

Jeremy looked up – down – at the ground beneath him. Dappled shadows drifted over soft mulch, a surrealist sky. Nothing remotely firm or sharp. Jeremy reached up – down – and strained to brush his fingertips over the mulch. His swatting tossed a few damp, woody strands around. He needed _something_ , he couldn’t gnaw through the rope with his damn teeth–

Sunlight glinted off something white.

For one horrible moment, Jeremy thought it was a tiny bone, that he was back in Lindsay’s garden. As his swaying vision settled on the speck of white, he realized it was a small chunk of quartz gravel, kicked from the path. Bright, glinting in the sun, and sharp. 

He must have stretched himself an inch taller to do it, but Jeremy’s fingers closed around that little rock. He took a few deep breaths and hauled himself up again.

The inverting horizon made Jeremy’s vision jolt horribly. His abs hadn’t forgotten the last suspended crunch. They ached as he grabbed at the rope, keeping himself folded in half. His hand shook as he ground the small piece of quartz against the rope. The snap of fibers was an intoxicating injection of hope, but the rope was thick, and Jeremy had to hold his breath in this position. 

It was only seconds before Jeremy flopped back down, less gently than last time. His chest heaved, his muscles all aching. He just had to catch his breath, just needed to give his muscles a rest, and he just had to do it before the blood rushing to his head made him pass out. 

“Well look at that.” Behind him, a chillingly familiar voice drawled. “Guess some animals can’t resist a trap.”

Jeremy squirmed on the end of the rope, struggling to turn around. His upside-down vision finally veered the right way. Michael’s smile wouldn’t have looked any less predatory right-side-up. The piece of quartz slipped out of Jeremy’s limp hand.

“Keep squirming.” Michael was striding closer, and there was nothing Jeremy could do. “It’s cute how your dick flops around.”

Jeremy’s mouth was dry as Michael approached, his head pounding. “M-Michael–”

“You know, I’ll hand it to you. That was a better chase.” Roughly, Michael grabbed Jeremy’s leg, yanking his swinging to a halt. “Trying to lose me by cutting through Lindsay’s garden? Ballsy.”

A memory of golden foam exploding into pieces flashed through Jeremy’s mind. “Wh-what did you do to Gavin?”

“Ha, nothing that took long!”

The blood rushing to Jeremy’s head was starting to make him dizzy. His ankle ached in the snare, but Michael’s groin was so close that struggling might mean putting his face in it.

“You ever butchered an animal before, Jeremy?” 

Fear and blood were both choking him. “N-no…”

Michael’s grip on his leg tightened, as though he could have gone anywhere. “Helps to string it up and drain it first. Get all the blood out.” 

With Michael’s waist at eye-level, Jeremy had an uninterrupted view of the big, serrated hunting knife that Michael slid out of the sheath on his hip. His panicked breath was making his head reel as much as the inverted world.

“M-Michael, please–”

“Hold still.” The knife lifted out of Jeremy’s vision, sending an electric tingle down Jeremy’s body, as though his skin was documenting every place it could be cut. “This’ll be quick.”

A brief sawing sound was Jeremy’s only warning before the ground punched him in the face. He crumpled into a heap at Michael’s feet with his head throbbing, the severed snare still tight around his ankle. Before Jeremy could stand, or even rub the ache out of his shoulder, Michael’s boot thumped onto his chest, pinning him down. The trees and sky were suddenly back above Jeremy where they belonged, and in front of it all was Michael.

“I’ve caught you twice now.” Michael’s smile was sharper than the knife in his hand. His boot moved from Jeremy’s chest to his face, shoving it into the dirt. “I think you should get three lives. Old school. How’s that sound?”

Jeremy winced as the boot pressed. “S-so you’ll let me go one more time after this, right?”

“Ha.” Dirty treads scraped against Jeremy’s cheek. “No.” 

The boot lifted away. Jeremy brushed the dirt off his red face, wondering if he was allowed to stand. Michael was pacing around him slowly, eyes wandering up and down his half-naked body.

“You’ve got three minutes before I come after you.” Michael slid the knife back into its sheath. “Run fast.” 

Jeremy scrambled to his feet and bolted off through the trees, not even bothering to avoid the gravel paths.

—-

Jeremy’s objectives had reversed themselves. Escape forgotten, he was back to survival, and still with no clear plan. The advantage he’d been given was gone almost as soon as he’d gotten it, and he’d lost his pants in the bargain. If he knew which direction the mansion was, he’d be running there as fast as he could.

The trees and mulch had given way to grass again. Jeremy’s legs were now aching too much to feel jittery, the severed snare dangling behind him with each stride. As the sun poured over him, he relented to his fatigue and slowed to a walk. At least the lawn was slanting down, a gentle hill leading towards a glittering creek. The land rose on the far side of the river, a grassy mound topped by a small structure that gleamed bright in the sun, all white marble pillars and tall windows. He could see a glint of sunlight off water: a pool. Gavin had mentioned a pool house. Jeremy plodded towards the river, gasping tired breaths. Maybe he could cool off in the river.

… Maybe he could throw off Michael’s tracking with the river.

A spark of renewed vigor pushed Jeremy’s tired legs into a jog. Gravity came to his rescue, the slope of the hill stretching each step just a little farther.

The river was shallow, with a sandy bottom broken by a few smooth boulders. Clear river water splashed up to Jeremy’s calves as he rushed in. The cool water and soft sand were so blissful on his sore feet that he closed his eyes and let out a groan that he prayed Michael wouldn’t hear. For a moment, the only sound was the soothing babble of the creek and the occasional chirp of birds. With the warm sun and the mild breeze, Jeremy could almost remember how wonderful it had been to first step outside.

Basking in nature was an indulgence. Reluctantly, Jeremy opened his eyes and began following the river.

The water was shallow enough that he could move quickly. The current tugged at the rope that trailed from his ankle. Jeremy thought about trying to take it off, but there wasn’t time. The weight of his own body had wrenched the noose painfully tight, not loosening even with the pull of the water. Besides, a discarded rope would just be one more clue for Michael to follow. 

Jeremy passed under a beautiful, arched wooden bridge as he made his way downriver. The shade passed over him, a temporary ceiling. As he stepped back out into the sunlight, a glint of red flashed through his vision.

Jeremy froze in his tracks. The flash had been so quick he might’ve imagined it. But if he hadn’t… then he had a more immediate threat to his well-being than Michael’s threats. The bridge beckoned, a comforting promise of solid shelter mere paces behind him, but Jeremy had no delusions of outrunning this kind of danger. He took a deep breath before looking down at his body, examining himself for a small red dot as though checking for poisonous insect bites. One hand strayed to his forehead, rubbing over the skin as though he’d be able to feel the projected beam of light. He looked at his hand as he lowered it, as though the dot was ink he could’ve rubbed off. Nothing in his palm. But, as he lowered his arm to his side, something flickered playfully on the back of his hand. 

A laser pointer, innocent in its simplicity, like a cat owner might carry in their pocket. Either that, or the mark of a sniper rifle choosing it’s target. There was only one way to know for sure which it was. A sniper stayed out of view. If Jeremy could find the sniper, then he might be safe. If he couldn’t…

Then it would only be a matter of time before things around him started to explode.

The direction of the laser gave him a clue. Jeremy lifted his gaze to the top of the hill, the marble pool house. He waded out of the river and pushed his tired body up the hill.

The chiseled pillars of the pool house had a mediterranian flair. A beautiful wooden deck sprawled around it, housing the pool itself, an inviting expanse of sparkling aqua. Jeremy didn’t have to search for long. Ray was sprawled on a lawn chair like a cat in the sun, a pitcher of lemonade collecting condensation on the table beside him. In one hand he held a glass, empty apart from a plastic curly straw. The other hand held a laser pointer. Jeremy felt a sense of relief so profound he almost stumbled as he approached. 

“Hey, Jeremy.” Ray’s voice was casual. “Wasn’t expecting to see you outside, couch potato.” With a small movement of his wrist, he flicked the laser pointer back to Jeremy’s forehead, a brief painful flash in his vision. “Couldn’t resist giving you a little kiss.”

A lazy Ray was a safe Ray, but Jeremy didn’t dare give him a reason to rise from that lawn chair. “H-hey, Ray. Uh, did you need me for something?”

Ray smiled. “You mean besides just seeing your pretty face? And your pretty…” His gaze rolled down slowly. “…uh, free spirit?” 

Jeremy’s legs pressed together by reflex, as if that would hide anything.

“But actually, could you pour me more lemonade?” Ray lifted his empty glass. “I finished it while I was watching you frolic.”

The pitcher was definitely within Ray’s reach. Jeremy rushed to the table all the same. There was no need to remind Ray that he had the option of moving, of prowling back to the house and assembling one of the sleek black rifles he cared for with the same passion he showed in bed. No reason to inspire him to shine another little light on Jeremy’s forehead, so quick he might not even see it. 

Jeremy’s hand barely shook as he lifted the slick pitcher, pouring a careful stream of lemonade into Ray’s waiting glass. Ray smiled as he raised the straw to his mouth, never breaking eye contact as he took a long, slow drink.

“Mmm. Sweet as your lips.” Ray inclined the glass slightly towards Jeremy, the same motion he’d made with the laser pointer. “Want a sip?”

It felt like a question. Like Jeremy could’ve said no, and Ray would’ve let him. All the same… probably best not to get into the habit.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Ray.” Jeremy could feel Ray’s eyes on him as his lips closed around the plastic straw. The first icy-cold taste of sweet, crisp lemonade triggered some survival instinct, and before Jeremy knew it he was draining the glass. Ray watched with an amused smile. Jeremy gasped as he finally lowered it from his lips. 

“Uh.” He looked at the empty glass in his hand. “Sorry.” 

Ray shrugged. “Hey, no problem. There’s more.” He watched as Jeremy refilled the glass. “Been running from Michael?”

“Um.” Jeremy didn’t ask how Ray knew, or if Ray knew what Michael would do to him. He handed the refilled glass back. “Y-yeah.”

“Well shit, you need those electrolytes.” Ray set the glass down, Jeremy’s eyes tracking the movement as though Ray was a venomous snake deciding whether or not to continue sunning itself. “Dehydration won’t help you run.”

Hunger wouldn’t help him either, Jeremy was realizing as the sugary liquid settled in his stomach. It was strange, remembering amid the fear and danger that he still had needs like food and water.

Ray yawned, long and slow. Then, as Jeremy watched with growing alarm, he raised his arms above his head and arched his back in a smooth full-body stretch. 

That movement was starting to look dangerously un-lazy.

Jeremy was backing away before he’d noticed he was moving. Ray only ever moved for two reasons: to fuck or to kill, both of which he did with merciless efficiency. Jeremy didn’t want to stick around and see which one had stirred Ray into motion. 

“Uh, thanks for the lemonade… and the advice…” Jeremy took several more backwards steps before turning and running. 

If Ray’s little red dot found him again as he raced down the hill, he chose not to make Jeremy feel the consequences.

—-

Hunger was a feeling Jeremy hadn’t noticed had been absent, until it had suddenly returned. Jack usually kept him well fed, a combination of bite-sized snacks she’d feed him seemingly on a whim, and bigger, well-laid meals that always took him by surprise. Jack’s cooking was warm and filling, the kind of caloric satisfaction that sometimes led to a nap, usually in her warm, waiting arms. 

But now, out on the grounds, Jack wasn’t here. And it had been hours since Jeremy had eaten.

The neat rows of the vineyard were visible again, along with a small cabin on the edge of the vines. Sullenly, Jeremy made his way towards it, a severed rope still trailing from his tired footsteps. Either the Fakes had two vineyards, or Jeremy had somehow gone in a big circle. Either way, maybe he could eat a few grapes, catch his breath in the shade. He was too sore and hungry and fatigued to remember which way he’d originally come from, which way would take him back home.

The solidness of the cabin kept drawing his eye, the structure that Gavin had said was a wine cellar. It was cruel, how badly he wanted to be indoors again. Entering the cabin might mean getting cornered by Michael, but…

… But Gavin had said there were snacks in the wine cellar. Digging deep, Jeremy found enough strength to walk a little faster.

The cabin was small, with a rustic facade that made it look like it had been built from stacked logs. The beautifully carved hardwood door put lie to this. As Jeremy pushed the door open, the inside was far more hotel than hunter’s cabin, with big windows and a sprawl of beautifully-patterned couches and chairs. A few tables were arranged among them, but they were all bare. No food, not even any wine. Jeremy walked past the tantalizing comfort of the couches – collapsing onto one would feel divine, but he couldn’t afford to – and walked down the stairs that led down into the earth. 

The wine cellar was calm and quiet. Jeremy could feel the difference as he descended, not only in the lack of sun on his face and the absence of birdsong, but the closeness of the space. The walls radiated a pleasant coolness, and he could hear a slight hum in his ears; a lack of ambient noise. The smooth stone steps were a relief to his bare feet. 

He walked slowly, one hand trailing along the wall. Soft, motion-activated lights flicked on as he passed them, their gentle glow making it hard to see more than a few steps in front of him.

He wondered how much time Gavin spent down here. Maybe Gavin was down here now. Maybe they’d meet up and Gavin would show him where the food was. They could lay out a little picnic, steal sips from open wine bottles, lose themselves in unobserved enjoyment. 

Jeremy was smiling by the time the stairs opened into a larger room, lost in hopeful thoughts. Maybe Gavin would want to kiss him again.

“In the mood for some wine, Jeremy?”

Jeremy froze. That wasn’t Gavin’s voice. Too late to back out now. Swallowing, he walked further down until he could see into the cellar. The stone walls were lined with racks and racks of wine, a small fridge humming in the corner. Seated at a small table, a bottle and a glass in front of him, was Geoff. 

Adrenaline whispered at Jeremy to run, but instinct kept him rooted. Geoff’s pleasant smile wasn’t the sort of thing you ran from. It was the sort of thing you placated, and then you got to walk away. Shakily, Jeremy returned it. 

“H-hey Geoff. Uh, what’re you drinking?”

“Oh, _I’m_ not drinking.” Geoff lifted the glass, swirling it idly. “I find the enjoyment in wine is in the sharing. Don’t you agree?”

Jeremy shrugged, trying to cram humor into his voice. “I was always more into drinking it, myself.”

“Perfect.” Geoff indicated the space across from him. “Have a seat.”

Jeremy sat, acutely aware of the emptiness in his stomach. The chair was smooth, polished hardwood, cool against his bare skin. It might have been pleasant if it wasn’t a reminder that his pants had been blasted to shreds.

Geoff offered him the glass. Jeremy looked into it, sniffed it – he was pretty sure you were supposed to do that – and obediently sipped it. Maybe, if he was cooperative, Geoff would give him some cheese with his wine.

Geoff’s smile widened. “Thoughts?”

“It’s, uh.” Jeremy licked his lips, exploring the taste. “It’s… light?” 

“Strawberries, right? Here.” Geoff leaned forward, pressing his fingertips against the glass, coaxing it back towards Jeremy’s lips. “Have another taste.”

The next sip Jeremy considered carefully, as though planning a book report in his head as he drank. “It’s creamy. Sweet. Nice flavors, but not overpowering.” 

“Sounds like you like it. Didn’t peg you for a zinfandel man.”

Jeremy nodded. Geoff stood, pushing the glass closer as he did so. “You go ahead and enjoy that. I’ll find us another to sample.”

Jeremy stared down at the contents of the glass. It was more wine than he’d been hoping to drink… all the same, it hadn’t been a request. He lifted the glass, downing the remaining wine in two quick mouthfuls. It really was nice. Dangerously refreshing, as though the wine was trying to convince him it was just fruit juice. It went down a little too easy.

The bottle Geoff returned with was darker in color. He pulled Jeremy’s empty glass towards himself, tipping a decidedly not tasting-sized portion into it. He swirled it in the glass, holding it up to the light.

“Nice legs,” he remarked.

Jeremy’s bare legs pressed together. “U-uh–” 

Geoff lowered the glass so Jeremy could see the ruby streaks where the wine was running back down. “See?”

“Oh.” Jeremy swallowed. He had no idea what Geoff was talking about. “Yeah, it’s, uh– that wine is going places.” 

Geoff chuckled and slid the glass across the table. “Oh, it’s about to. Try it.” 

Jeremy looked at the glass with apprehension. He lifted it, sipped, and couldn’t suppress the face he made. This wine _didn’t_ go down easy. It seemed to suck the moisture from his throat like he’d swallowed leather.

Geoff smiled knowingly. “Thoughts?”

“It’s, uh…” Jeremy grasped for descriptors that wouldn’t sound rude. “It’s… full.”

“Oh? I’m sure you have more observations than that. Try some more.”

Again, Geoff pushed the glass towards Jeremy’s lips. Jeremy struggled to swallow quickly so the wine wouldn’t spill onto his one remaining article of clothing. This time he almost gagged.

“Dry,” he choked out, wheezing. 

“Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?” There was no mercy in Geoff’s smile. “You two get acquainted while I pick the next bottle.”

Jeremy miserably assessed his glass. He could probably manage that in one swallow, but that would contradict Geoff’s instructions to _get acquainted_ with it. He settled for three quick sips, letting the liquid skim his tongue momentarily before swallowing. Lowering the glass to the table was such a relief, it took a moment for Jeremy to realize that Geoff was no longer in view. That mystery was solved when he shifted slightly, intending to look around, and leaned back into Geoff’s warm body.

Jeremy jolted, but Geoff only leaned forward, pressing into him as he set a third bottle on the table.

“Now I’d like to sample something.” Geoff’s voice was low, heated. The voice of a predator who would not be denied his prey. “Stand up.”

Jeremy stood, feeling as though his legs might not support his weight. The tasting room wobbled dangerously around him. The wine was hitting his empty stomach like a baseball bat, sending stars dancing in his vision.

“Good.” The words were a soft whisper in his ear. “Now. Bend over the table.”

 _Bend_. The word seemed to ring in the air. Jeremy folded forward, remembering the old advice about putting his head between his knees if he was feeling faint. He wondered if this qualified. From the slight spinning sensation behind his eyes, he thought it probably didn’t. He let his cheek rest against the smooth wood of the table, trying to ground himself. Then his hands, spread out flat as though bracing himself on unsteady ground.

Dizzyingly, Jeremy realized he’d never been alone with Geoff before. Jack had always been there, with her husband helpfully holding Jeremy’s legs open, or caressing him with one tattooed hand, or whispering soft advice in his ear.

_“Take it nice and slow. Use your tongue, she likes that. Now down again… good boy. All the way to the base.”_

Jeremy had slept with Geoff before, under Jack’s watchful eye and wandering hands, but Geoff had never initiated something on his own. Absurdly, Jeremy felt unchaperoned right now, the lack of Jack more alarming than the compromised pose he was in. He had no idea what Geoff was about to do to him. No idea what kinks Geoff had been holding back while he was letting his wife lead.

Then again, being told to bend over a table could only mean a couple things.

Hands on Jeremy’s ass had him tensing in anticipation of pain. Fuck, Jack had never been rough with him, had never eased herself inside him without thorough prep. Had she been protecting him from her husband? Jeremy knew he was drunk, but not drunk enough to soften the rough edges of pain, he’d _feel_ this if it hurt–

The first soft, slick touch pulled a sharp gasp out of Jeremy. It wasn’t a cock, or fingers, it was a _tongue_ , sliding smooth and wet over his hole. Geoff was on his knees, cupping Jeremy’s ass, beard scraping his thighs as he licked. 

“O-oh fuck, you’re–” Jeremy’s shocked gasping was giving way to pleasured panting as Geoff’s tongue swirled. “Th-that’s… nhhh…” 

Jack had never done this to him; she’d always used her fingers, slick and gentle but not nearly so soft and warm. Geoff’s tongue moved over him in slow laps, soothing him until the anticipation of pain had melted away, leaving him limp against the table. When that tongue began to press, it was all Jeremy could do to moan. The wine was buzzing in his head, filling him with a pleasant heaviness that anchored him against the slick pushes. 

“A-ah, fuck…”

He could feel Geoff probing deeper on each slick thrust, licking into him with single-minded determination. The words “tasting room” kept repeating absurdly in Jeremy’s drunk head. Vaguely, he was aware that Geoff would probably do more to him soon, but he no longer dreaded it. He’d been wrong to assume Geoff would be rough with him; this was nice. Warmth from the wine was mixing pleasantly with the heat of arousal, a drowsy cocktail that had him rocking his hips back against Geoff’s tongue. 

Even after Geoff pulled back, Jeremy could feel the heat of his breath. “Now that,” Geoff murmured, “is the most delicious thing I’ve sampled today.” He stood up, his hand lingering on Jeremy’s ass. “I always like something full-bodied.” 

Desire was gripping Jeremy’s hips more firmly than Geoff was, tilting them up, asking for more. He panted against the table, head swimming. Geoff’s thumb was just barely touching his hole, as though to keep it spread for his cock…

“That’s what I like about the malbec. Nice and robust. But maybe you’re right about it being too dry.”

Jeremy’s skin was tingling so much that it took him a moment to realize Geoff wasn’t touching him anymore. He lifted his chest off the table, craning his head around, head spinning drunkenly. Geoff was pouring a fresh glass of wine, paying no mind to the fact that Jeremy was still bottomless and bent over the table. Suddenly, Jeremy felt more self-conscious than he had when Geoff’s tongue was up his ass. With heat rushing to his face, he pulled himself onto his wobbling legs, bracing against the table. 

Oh lord, he was drunk.

Geoff was presenting a third, alarmingly full glass of wine. “Try the pinot.” Instead of holding the glass out, he stepped closer until he was nearly pinning Jeremy against the table. “I think you’ll like it more than the last one.” 

Jeremy almost missed the glass, fumbling for it just in time. His aching dick was resting against Geoff’s dress pants, leaving a slick dab on the expensive material. His cheeks burned as he lifted the glass to his lips and sipped.

“U-uh…” It was hard to think of adjectives when Geoff was standing this close to him. “I-it’s– fruit. Fruity.” Fuck, if that was a real wine term, he’d eat the pants that Lindsay blew up.

Geoff lightly gripped Jeremy’s chin, tilting his face up. “Isn’t it? Thought you might like it.”

 _Well, shit._ Jeremy blinked up at Geoff. At least his pants were in bite-sized pieces now.

“You think it’ll pair well with game meat?”

Jeremy lifted the glass again, this time without Geoff’s guidance. “What kind of game?”

“Michael didn’t mention.”

Jeremy choked on his wine. 

Geoff’s eyebrows rose in something that could have been concern or amusement. “Something wrong?”

“I-I should–” Jeremy’s drunk mind was whirling. He was in no condition to escape Michael a third time. This was it, the end of what he could do. He needed to return to safety so that he could live to search another day. His half-full glass joined the bottle on the table. “I have to get back to the house. Uh, Jack’ll be waiting for me.”

It wasn’t specifically true, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Jack was always warmly receptive when Jeremy sought her attention. 

Geoff’s gaze was impassive. Eventually, he simply said, “Travel safe.”

Despite the verbal permission, Geoff didn’t move. There was no way for Jeremy to leave without touching him. Jeremy braced his hands against Geoff’s chest so he wouldn’t fall as he slipped past, an embarrassing whimper escaping him as his dick slid against Geoff’s pants. His steps were almost straight as he fled up the stone staircase and out into the sunshine.

—-

The light, which had been so pleasant before, was now disorientating. Jeremy’s bare feet felt strange on the soft grass, his steps not quite lining up the way he’d intended. With only wine in his empty belly, this wasn’t exactly the pit stop he’d been hoping to make. He felt more disoriented than ever, but there was no more time to waste. He needed to get home, and he needed to do it fast.

The rows of vines were a tidy little forest beside the cabin. Jeremy wracked his drunk brain as he followed the edge of the vineyard. When he’d sat among the vines with Gavin, Gavin had said the wine cellar was… to the south of the vineyard? And Gavin had talked about Lindsay’s garden in the north, the pool in the southeast… Did that mean the vineyard was in the west? Jeremy rotated in place, walking backwards and staring at the cabin. If the vineyard was to the west of the house, and the cabin was to the south, then that meant he had to go east to get home, and north was that way, and that meant…

… His drunk feet were carrying him the right way. 

Like a wobbling top, Jeremy whirled himself around and broke into an unsteady run. He just had to go a little further. And Jack would be glad to see him. Drunk, half-naked, begging for her attention… Jack would take him back to her room and shield him from everyone else. He just had to find her and throw himself into her arms.

—-

Fiery green grass and colorful fruit trees, flower beds and fountains. It was starting to look familiar. The wine in Jeremy’s belly tilted the horizon and made rubber bands of his limbs, but he was tumbling towards home. 

Finally, as his aching legs carried him over a shallow hill, he caught a glimpse of the mansion through the ornamental trees. 

Jeremy didn’t believe his eyes at first. A relieved sob choked him, and he covered his mouth to hold back the sound. It was still far, farther than his fatigued body wanted to carry him, but he could see the promising safety of brick and stone, wood and tidy paint. He could even see the patio where Jack had first brought him outside. Once he stepped through that door, he’d be back in her quiet spoiled luxury. 

One last stretch. He could do this. Jeremy took a deep breath and jogged down the hill.

Between him and the mansion stretched verdant grass, a few flowerbeds, and a solitary gazebo. Jeremy spiraled instinctively towards the gazebo as he ran. It was a sizeable structure, with a wooden roof and six stone pillars. The pillars seemed to be scaled like fish, glittering and flashing in the hot sunlight. Jeremy slowed his strides as he drew closer, gasping for breath. He couldn’t afford to stop for long, but he couldn’t say no to a moment out of the hot sun. He was too drunk for this much running, this much heat and brightness. It was making him lightheaded. He dragged himself towards the inviting shade.

The wooden floor was blissfully smooth under Jeremy’s sore feet. He caught his breath, swaying slightly, resisting the urge to collapse onto one of the wood benches. Now that he was closer, he could see that the “scales” on the pillars were plaques. Dozens of them, all with etched words as though commemorating something. Still breathing hard, Jeremy wandered to the closest pillar and squinted. It took his drunk brain a moment to focus on the words.

_Fell from an aircraft at cruising altitude. Had time to scream hoarse before hitting the ground._

Jeremy flinched as though the brass plate could strike him like a snake. His gaze was already jumping to the next.

_Hit by a train. Painted the tracks for almost a mile._

Jeremy’s heart was pounding as he stumbled back. There must be a hundred plaques in the gazebo, and words were starting to jump out at him. Shot and stabbed and burned and drowned. They were deaths, gruesome ones, immortalized in brass and displayed like trophies. Although he had been sweating moments ago, Jeremy felt cold.

One brassy sentence snagged his gaze and wouldn’t let go.

_Raped and strangled in my own bed by Golden Boy._

The words held him in place like a hand on his neck. Jeremy couldn’t take his eyes off it. This plaque didn’t just describe a death, it named the murderer. _Golden Boy._

Jeremy knew the Fakes’ codenames, of course. Everyone in Los Santos knew the names. Jeremy knew that Jack was Wheels and Geoff was the Kingpin, Ray was Roses and Lindsay was the Wildcat. But Jeremy had never found out who Golden Boy was. All he knew was what he’d seen on the news, the flashes of golden pistols and the trail of defiled corpses. Whoever the Golden Boy was in his time off, he’d never visited the country estate, so Jeremy had never met him.

As he stared at the words _raped and strangled in my own bed_ , he hoped he never did.

“See something you like?” Michael drawled.

 _Run._ Alarms flashed in Jeremy’s head, but his drunk legs wouldn’t listen. All they did was slowly turn towards Michael’s voice, quivering. _Run run run run run!_

“Pathetic.” Michael’s boots thumped on the wood floor. Jeremy remembered how those filthy treads had felt grinding against his cheek. “I can smell the wine on your breath from here.” 

_Shot stabbed burned drowned raped and strangled._ Finally, Jeremy’s legs moved, only to trip over the rope bound to his ankle. He stumbled, barely staying on his feet as Michael prowled towards him.

“W-wait, Michael–”

“You were supposed to give me a better chase.” Michael snorted in disgust. “This is all you’ve got? Smells like you were hoping to anesthetize yourself before I caught you.”

“G-Geoff,” Jermey choked out. He stumbled backwards until he bumped into a pillar. He wondered what vivid deaths were pressing against his back as Michael cornered him. “I-in the wine cellar, he–”

“Oh, Geoff.” The scorn fled Michael’s expression, swallowed up by gloating. He grabbed Jeremy’s bare waist, shoving him against the pillar, against the deaths. “Yeah, he said he was gonna pick out a red for me. Gimme the spoilers, what did he find?”

“Nnh–” Jeremy squirmed in Michael’s grip, the memory flaring hot in his belly. The wine was playing tricks on his body, making him feel Geoff’s tongue here and now, as though the man was kneeling behind him and still lapping. “H-he, uh- he was s-sampling a few–”

Michael’s hand slid down to Jeremy’s ass, grabbing it and yanking him close. His voice was suddenly low. 

“That’s a lot of blushing for wine tasting.”

Jeremy could barely breathe. Slowly, Michael’s finger slid lower, dipping between his cheeks. Jeremy couldn’t help the desperate whine that slipped between his teeth as that finger slid inside him, confident and inescapable. Slickness from Geoff’s tongue made it easy. Michael’s smile had been feral, all teeth and violent delight, but now it was sly and sharp. 

“Thought so.” 

“Nnn–” Jeremy’s face was burning with wine and embarrassment. The plaques were warming against his back, whispering violence against his skin. “M-Michael, please–”

“I’m disappointed, Jeremy. Thought you were taking this hunt seriously.” Michael’s finger didn’t move, but it remained hooked inside him, keeping him from pulling away, more aggressive than sexual. “Stopping in the middle of a chase to booze up and spread your legs for Geoff? I wouldn’t have given you three chances if I knew you would spend them all partying.”

Jeremy gulped, head spinning with wine and adrenaline. Words fell from his mouth almost before he’d realized he’d spoken. “W-wouldn’t you rather?” 

He didn’t know what Michael wanted from him, but now seemed like a great time to make suggestions.

Jeremy could feel Michael’s breath. “Rather what? I can do anything I want. I caught you, so you’re _mine_.” 

“Y-yes, you could do anything you want!” The words continued, a last grasp at desperate straws. “Y-you ran me down, got me all hot inside. A-and Geoff put in all this work, getting me ready for you. Don’t you wanna claim your prize?” He swallowed, lowering his voice to a frightened whisper. “I… I’ll struggle for you. Hard as I can.” 

Slowly, Michael pulled his finger out. He shifted, moving to lean in closer, his gaze intense. Jeremy’s breath was tense as Michael’s fingertips trailed over his skin. It was impossible to tell if the movements were sensual, or just the slow prowl of a predator before the pounce.

Michael’s face was unreadable, right up until Jeremy’s fist collided with it. 

When Jeremy had first stepped outside, first lowered his bare foot onto soft green grass, a tactile ecstasy had shaken his whole body. The impact of his fist against Michael’s face triggered something similar, the first truly good sensation in hours. He didn’t have time to stand around and savor it. With every ounce of strength he had left, he tore away from the gazebo and towards the mansion. 

He had promised Michael a struggle, after all.

Jeremy hadn’t glimpsed the expression on Michael’s face before fleeing, but the furious snarl that echoed behind him painted a vivid picture. Jeremy clenched his teeth as he ran, his breath racing. When Gavin had talked about how to deal with Michael, he hadn’t said anything about fighting back. That was okay, though. Now Jeremy could tell Gavin something. Unless, of course, Michael caught him, in which case Gavin would just have to infer it. If Gavin was still in the vineyard, he might be close enough to hear the violent threats that Michael hurled like weapons across the lawn. Jeremy was grateful for the wind whistling in his ears, drowning out the exact details of Michael’s tirade. He was pretty sure he caught the phrase _“break your fucking legs.”_

The mansion was looming closer. Jeremy could see Jack’s patio in more detail. There was the door that she’d held open for him, letting him step out into the sunshine. Every breath burned in Jeremy’s chest. The lawn chair was right where he remembered it, blue and white stripes glowing in the sunlight, but there was no Jack reclining on it.

Behind that door was her wing of the mansion, her lounge and her bedroom, her intimate dining room and her lavish bathroom, and somewhere in one of those rooms was surely Jack.

Michael’s furious footfalls were catching up.

The brick had become hot in the midday sun, searing Jeremy’s bare feet for scant seconds. He yanked the door open, ducked inside, and slammed it shut so hard that the walls shook, cutting off the sunlight.

Jeremy’s head reeled and his chest ached as he grappled with the lock, clicking it into place, leaning his full weight against the door as if the lock wouldn’t be enough. He jolted as something _thumped_ against the other side of the door, a shock reverberating through the wood.

 _“Jeremy!”_ Michael’s snarl was feral. It sounded like he was using his body as a battering ram. “Open the fuck up!”

There was only one thing Jeremy could think of that would keep Michael away from him. With every ounce of air left in his burning lungs, Jeremy screamed one word. 

_“Jack!”_

The thumping stopped as if a spell had been cast. The only sound left was Jeremy’s heaving breath. The house was eerily silent, no rustling wind or bird calls. Just the silent presence of Michael on the other side of the door.

Eventually, Jeremy could hear footsteps. Jack appeared in the doorway like the sun cresting the horizon. Marginally, barely visible to the human eye. Jeremy relaxed against the door.

“Jeremy?” Jack’s eyes were wide with concern. Her soft pink shirt was slipping off one shoulder, her hair slightly mussed up as though she’d been lying on her back and reading. “What’s wrong, honey?”

With Michael no longer pounding at the door, the urgency only remained in Jeremy’s racing heart. A strange embarrassment was clogging his throat. “Can you make Michael go away?” he whimpered.

The confusion spreading over Jack’s expression made his stomach knot up. Wordlessly, she nodded, stepping closer. Even with the gentle urging of Jack’s hand on his shoulder, a touch he normally didn’t bother to resist, Jeremy was reluctant to pull away from the door. It took both of her hands and a soft “It’s all right,” before he stepped away. He could feel the imprint of the wood grain on his back.

The click of the door unlocking made Jeremy flinch. Jack opened it calmly, as if there wasn’t a wild predator outside.

“Hi, Michael.”

Michael’s voice was suddenly higher, lighter. “Well, if it isn’t the lovely lady of the house!”

“What are you getting into, you troublemaker?”

Cautiously, Jeremy peered around Jack. Michael was leaning against the doorframe, his ferocity wiped away by a charming smile. 

“Oh, nothing much.” Michael’s gaze never even flicked towards Jeremy. “Just came over to borrow a cup of sugar.” 

“Came to my bedroom to borrow a cup of sugar, hm? I think you’ll have better luck in the kitchen.” 

“Maybe that’s not the kind of sugar I was looking for, m’am.” 

Jack placed her hand on her hip and pressed her fingertip against Michael’s nose. “Good luck in the kitchen,” she whispered, a mockery of sensuality. “It’s in the cabinet above the stove.” 

Michael held her hand before she could withdraw it. He kissed the back. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Patillo.” 

Without a glance at Jeremy, Michael turned and left, as if he’d never been interested in entering the room in the first place. Jeremy didn’t move, afraid to break the spell, not quite believing that he’d really slipped through Michael’s claws. He was back in Jack’s wing of the mansion, safe and alive, with nothing to remind him of Michael except muddy footprints on the brick patio.

“Oh goodness, Jeremy…” Jack looked him over with a sigh as she closed the door. “You were only outside for a few hours.”

He must look like a mess. Pants gone, body bruised, sweat gluing dust and dirt to his skin. Jeremy shuffled his feet sheepishly. The wet, filthy rope that was still bound to his ankle slithered across the floor.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.

As though he was too endearing to be disappointed in, Jack reluctantly smiled. “All right, have a seat.” She pulled a small switchblade out of her pocket. “Let’s get that rope off of you.”

Obediently, Jeremy hobbled over to a big soft armchair and collapsed into it. As soon as his bare legs hit the cushioning, he was unsure if he’d be able to rise again. Just having the weight taken off his feet was bliss.

Jack knelt down, knife in hand, and lifted his bound foot. “Stay still,” she urged gently.

The knife was cold against his rubbed-raw skin. Jeremy winced in pain, but not in fear. Jack sawed slowly and carefully. Fibers snapped under her knife, but her blade never nicked him. After a few minutes, the rope fell away to reveal a sore red ring around Jeremy’s ankle.

“There you go.” With a satisfied sigh, Jack stood. She leaned over him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “All right, up you come.” 

Rising from the chair was a monumental strain, but Jack’s guidance made it possible. Jeremy leaned into her. His body was finally reacting to her presence, relaxing into her touch, remembering _safety_ and _pleasure_. 

Jack never hurt him. Jack never let others hurt him, either. 

“Honey.” Jack’s voice was kind, her tone lightly scolding. “Were you drinking on an empty stomach?”

“I-I was…” Jeremy trailed off before his explanation had even begun. He was so tired, and the mention of food was reminding him of the hollow ache in his stomach. “…Yes.”

Jack tsk-ed good-naturedly. “Thought so. Come with me.”

—-

The long table was set for one. A single bowl of tomato soup steamed at the only place setting, a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches beside it. The food would’ve looked inviting under any circumstances, but receding terror and an empty stomach made it the best thing Jeremy had seen all day. He sat, reaching immediately for a triangle of sandwich. 

He almost didn’t notice as Jack circled the table, sitting across from him to take up her usual mealtime vigil. She interlaced her fingers and leaned her chin on her hands, watching silently as he devoured what was in front of him. 

At first Jeremy had been unnerved by Jack’s presence at his meals. Her gaze was intense, unwavering, as though every mouthful he swallowed was a captivating sight. It had made himself-conscious at first, but Jeremy had learned that the strange audience was a worthwhile tradeoff. If Jack was absent, or distracted by food herself, then other Fakes would take advantage of the opening. Once, Lindsay had casually dragged his chair back from the table, using it to haul Jeremy from the room like a wheelless moving dolly, wooden legs screeching on the polished floor. Another time, a small red dot had danced playfully over Jeremy’s pasta, an oddity he’d ignored right up until the plate exploded between fork-fulls. 

Twice had been enough. Now Jeremy knew to request Jack’s presence on the occasions she didn’t offer it. Her steady gaze felt like safety. Like the watchful eye of a security camera, a deterrent to commit violence within its unfaltering gaze. 

Jack watched patiently as Jeremy polished off every gooey, cheesy, crispy bite, every warm rich spoonful. Even once the plate was empty, she waited until Jeremy had wiped the bowl clean before she rose from her seat. Jeremy wanted to do the same, wanted to make sure he followed wherever she went, but his exhausted legs and full belly kept him glued to his seat. The food was warm and heavy, much-needed calories intermingling with the wine, quieting the dizziness until all that remained was a heavy, contented exhaustion.

He looked up at Jack, finally meeting her gaze directly, and managed a tired, genuine smile. 

“Thank you, Jack.” The words came easily, simplified by gratitude. 

“You’re welcome, Jeremy.” Her reply was soft, warm, somehow praise. She rounded the table so she could rest a hand on his shoulder. “Now that you’ve eaten, sweetheart, I can’t help but notice that you’ve lost your pants?”

“Uh… yeah. They’re, uh… all over Lindsay’s garden.” He found himself smiling at the absurdity of the statement. His full stomach was softening the sharp edges of the wine into a pleasantly fuzzy glow. 

“Hmm.” Jack’s fingers squeezed briefly, coaxing Jeremy to his feet. “We’ll get you some new ones. After a bath, I think.”

—-

The tub could fit three people with room to spare. Jeremy had learned that first-hand on the occasions that Jack and Geoff would bathe him together. Four hands on his body, working together to wash away the evidence of the previous night. Two pairs of legs caging him in, bumping against his, soap-slick skin on skin until something new happened that would need to be washed away. 

The memories made Jeremy blush, averting his gaze from the vast tub as Jack began to run him a bath.

Standing in the clean white bathroom, Jeremy was suddenly very aware of the dirt and sweat that covered his body. He’d spent a not-insignificant amount of his time outside on the ground, either sitting, laying, or being tackled there. Jack was right that he needed a bath. When she motioned him towards the steaming water, fluffy with bubbles, he stepped in gratefully.

“Ah–” He winced as hot water closed over the ropeburn on his ankle, but pain was soon overpowered by a relieved sigh as he lowered himself in. “Oooooooh wow…”

“Feels good?” Jack’s voice was muffled, and Jeremy glanced up to see her pulling her shirt off over her head. He nodded, gratitude once again helping the words come out easy. 

“I think I needed this more than the food,” he admitted.

Jeremy’s gaze was pulled up Jack’s body as she stepped into the tub. Under the bubbles, his cock twitched. It was never a chore to look at Jack, but something about the indulgence of a bubble bath made her glow. By the time Jack settled against the far end of the tub, sinking under the water with a happy sigh and letting her legs tangle with Jeremy’s, he was hard in the warm water.

“Aaaah…” Jack settled against the wall of the tub, just deep enough in the water that the bubbles clung to her breasts. “Feeling better?”

Jeremy was almost too relaxed to shiver as Jack’s hands slid over his legs under the water. “Yeah… way better.”

“You must be sore.” Jack squeezed his calf, and Jeremy’s eyelids fluttered. “You were out there for hours.”

“Nnh…”

Jack’s hand slid down his leg, lifting his foot out of the water and hugging it to her chest. Jeremy’s dick twitched again at the touch of that soft, slick, warm breast squishing against his heel. He hissed when Jack’s thumbs pressed against the sore arch of his foot.

“A-ah–”

“Oh, you really are sore.”

Jack’s thumbs rolled in slow circles, grinding the ache out of the tendons. It was the kind of pain that felt satisfying, a sensation that Jeremy couldn’t stand but wanted more of. He was caught between sharp gasps when she pressed hard and relieved moans when she eased up. Jack interspersed the purposeful pressure with soft, broad rubs across the sole of his foot, exploratory motions that also served to soothe Jeremy out of any expectation of pain, despite what he knew was happening. Then the next deliberate push would catch him off guard, driving into the muscle with careful mercilessness until his legs quaked beneath the bubbles.

“You’re so tense…” Jack’s voice was far softer than her grip. “Were you on your feet the entire time you were outside?”

Jeremy couldn’t hold back a groan as Jack’s hand moved. “Yeah, m-mostly…”

… Except for the tasting room. He’d sat in a chair for a while, bare ass against cool smooth wood before Geoff bent him over the table–

“You could have sat down, silly, there are benches everywhere!”

Finally, blissfully, Jack’s grip went slack. In the wake of her massage, Jeremy’s foot felt less like a body part and more like putty. He wasn’t even sure he could stand on it, but it felt so good. Wordlessly, he lifted his other foot out of the water, offering it.

Tension must have been the only thing holding him up. As Jack coaxed the stress out of his body, Jeremy went slack in the warm water. Even the dull pain of the massage seemed to blur with relaxation. Jeremy’s eyelids were growing heavy. Maybe it was the hot water and full belly making him woozy, but there was something ethereal about the light catching on Jack’s soft hair. 

“There you go…” Jack lowered his foot back into the water. “Are you sore anywhere else?”

Jeremy’s exhausted body could barely remember how to move, but a cosmic force dragged him through the water towards Jack, like the tides following the moon. Water lapped at the marble walls of the tub as he slid into her lap, her thighs soft and smooth under him, his stiffening cock resting against her belly. He leaned into her, skin sliding on skin, until their lips met and his eyes closed.

The warmth of the kiss put the bubble bath to shame. 

When they parted, Jack giggled softly. “Oh! What was that for?”

“It’s just that… you…” Jeremy mumbled half-words. He tucked his face into the damp crook of her neck. “…You do a lot for me.” 

“Oh, honey…” Jack guided his face back up, back to her lips. “Come here.”

If Jack’s hands had worked the ache from his feet, her lips worked the ache from his soul. Her body was warm, slippery bliss, sliding against him in the soapy water as they kissed. Beneath the foam, Jeremy’s hands had found Jack’s waist, but they were sliding up.

He didn’t realize he was holding her chest until she whispered between their lips.

“Yes, just like that…” 

Every part of Jack was gorgeous, but her breasts made Jeremy’s thoughts go all goopy. His hands slid around the sides of them, cupping them, lifting them slightly. They were flushed with heat and slick from the bath. He pulled back from Jack’s lips just so he could look at them, warm and soft and heavy, mouth-watering. His breath was quickening as his thumbs slid over her nipples.

“Mmmmh…” Jack’s soft exhale of pleasure was a warm puff against Jeremy’s lips. “That’s it, you’re doing so well…”

Jack’s nipples had gone velvety-soft in the heat, but they were firming under his touch. When he pressed her breasts together, soap bubbles billowed up between them. He dipped his thumb between them, surrounded by soft, pliable warmth, and almost whined. He wanted his face buried between them. He wanted his cock buried between them. He was too hypnotized to do either. Water and soap rolled slowly down each ample curve, pearlescent in the soft light. Jeremy had gone from half-hard to stiff and aching, prodding her belly under the warm water. When he gave her nipples a soft tug, pulling a warm sigh from her, his hips moved.

The first slide of Jack’s hand over his dick felt like a continuation of the same touch, seamless skin-on-skin. Jack’s palm glided softly down the underside of his shaft, fingers curling around his balls. Jeremy’s eyes fluttered when her hand retraced its steps, all the way up to the tip. His hands were moving by instinct, slow kneads over soft flesh, rubbing circles around each puffy nipple. He could tell which touches felt good for her; her cock would throb underneath him. 

“Keep going.” Jack’s whispered the permission like a breathy secret. “You feel lovely.” 

Jeremy groaned weakly. “You’re– you’re so soft.”

Like warm, sensitive pillows. Her chest yielded so easily to his touch, pliant and welcoming, giving back nothing but warmth and weight.

“Mmmm…” Another delicious movement of Jack’s palm, gliding over him beneath the water. “You’re not soft at all.” Her breath caught when Jeremy pinched, tugged. “Ooh.” 

Jack sounded soft too. Her velvety sighs seemed to wrap around his cock. Jeremy tugged again, a little firmer this time, and Jack moaned so sweetly that he twitched against her palm. Her breath pressed her breasts up into his hands as though pushed by her pleasure. 

“A-ah—” The water sloshed softly as Jeremy’s hips twitched, desperate movement against her hand. “O-oh god, Jack, I’m—”

Her breath was quick, excited. “It’s okay, honey, don’t hold back.”

Jeremy buried his face in Jack’s neck as he came, holding onto her breasts as though he might float away if he let go. His cock pulsed and twitched under the water, under her slowly stroking palm, world-reeling pleasure.

The first sensation that pulled him back to earth was heat. The hot bath and recent orgasm were making him lightheaded. Lifting his face away from Jack’s neck seemed to make the room spin. 

Jack lifted her hand from the water. Underneath the stray bubbles on her palm was something thicker. She giggled at the sight. “Well, I think it’s safe to say the bath is over!” She kissed Jeremy’s forehead. “Let’s rinse you off and go to bed.” 

The hot water, so soothing at first, had become overwhelming, dizzying. It was a relief to step out of the tub, even though Jeremy wobbled like a newborn deer. He wasn’t sure he could have dried himself off without Jack’s help.

Thankfully, it was a short walk to the bedroom.

As soon as Jeremy’s exhausted body hit the bed, he went boneless. The impact drove all remaining energy out of him. Jeremy mumbled into the pillow, hugging it against his face, sliding his leg against the silk sheets. The mattress seemed to hug his whole body, holding him close, pulling him down. There wasn’t, couldn’t possibly be, another bed on the planet as comfortable as this one.

He could feel Jack lying down next to him, still warm from the bath, soft and clean. Her hand stroked over his head comfortingly, moving down his back, easing the last of the tension from his body. Jeremy hummed in sleepy bliss as her hand moved down to his ass, cupping it.

“Tired?” she teased.

Jeremy nodded weakly, face still pressed into the pillow. Jack’s hand left his body for a moment, but when it returned, two fingers were slick. 

“Get some rest, honey.” Jack’s finger slowly sunk into him. “You’ll feel much better when you wake up.” 

Groaning was more than Jeremy could manage. He made one small, soft noise into the pillow as Jack’s finger submerged up to the knuckle, a soothing continuation of her caresses. The trials of the day and the melting-warm bath had left him soft and malleable as clay, in no position to argue with a sculptor’s hand.

The click of a door was just alarming enough to pull Jeremy’s face out of the pillow. He softened when he saw that it was Geoff. Familiar, safe. Geoff wouldn’t hurt him, hadn’t even hurt him when they were alone. Instead he had only…

… soft, slick, warm, flushed tingles of pleasure, Geoff’s hand on his lower back urging him to stay flat against the table…

Geoff smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Going to bed early, huh?”

Jeremy fumbled with the words, his thoughts stumbling over pulses of remembered pleasure, blurring into the movements of Jack’s finger. Was it early for going to bed? There was no more sunlight coming through the window, just the warm glow of the bedside lamp, but Jeremy had no sense of what time it was.

He didn’t care. He was tired, the bed was soft, and Jack felt so good pressed up behind him, no one could convince him that this wasn’t bed time.

Geoff’s clothes had vanished while Jermey’s eyes were closed. He looked up in time to see a familiar tattooed body slide into bed next to him, bracketing in him between protective bodies. Jeremy didn’t flinch when Jack added a second finger. His breath barely hitched.

Gentle fingers stroked his cheek. Jeremy shivered happily as Geoff leaned against him, pressing their foreheads together. When Geoff spoke, Jeremy swore he could feel their lips touching.

“It was good to see you, earlier.”

Jeremy mumbled, hoping Geoff could pick up on his sincerity if not the exact words. “You too, it was really good…”

The memory of the wine cellar had a golden quality to it. A brief respite of not only safety, but comfort. Jeremy shifted indulgently on the smooth sheets, felt Jack adjust herself against him. Inside him.

Geoff’s voice only added to the warmth in Jeremy’s chest. “Thank you for the help, by the way. Michael said the Pinot paired wonderfully with his rabbit.”

 _Rabbit_. The word slid into place like a final puzzle piece. Jeremy yawned. Safety and indulgence pressed down on him like a quilt. 

“Sounds like you had a busy day,” Jack teased.

“Mmmf.” Jeremy mumbled hazily into the pillow. Sleep was dragging him down into the mattress. Jack’s fingers felt more like a lullaby than a disturbance, silky comfort flowing into the smooth sheets and the soft pillows, urging him to close his eyes. He could barely focus on the slick feeling.

Geoff chuckled, a low, gentle sound. His hand slid onto Jeremy’s hip. “He really did.” 

Jack was so soft and warm against him, firm only where her cock nudged his thigh. Jeremy’s breath was slowing and deepening. Geoff’s hand slid from his hip to his ass, cupping it, spreading it as Jack’s fingers slipped free. Her cock slid up his thigh, finding the place where her fingers had been. Jeremy’s eyes sunk closed.

“Shhhh…” Jack murmured against the back of his neck. “Go to sleep, honey.” 

Jeremy let out a long sigh as she began to sink inside him. By the time she was completely sheathed, he wasn’t awake to notice.


End file.
